Well, the church has done it again. They’ve made another, more progressive change. It’s a step in the right direction. Really, it is.

Mostly, I’m glad these changes are happening. It makes it better for the ones still in the church and those still struggling along. A step in the right direction is still a step towards progress.

Yet, I always come away with a feeling of sadness when these changes happen. I’m happy for the change, but angry it took this long. These changes and this progress would’ve made such a difference to me years ago, but now it’s much too late.

A few years ago, I attended my friend’s daughter’s baptism. This one stands out more than the others because my friend is married to a non-member and is also one of the most faithful, believing members I know. This means that she was the one raising their child in the church. Scripture study, Sunday attendance, prayers, memorizing Articles of Faith—it was all through her sole effort. 

Her husband was supportive, but through his demeanor it was clear he was ”hands off” when it came to church. This was her religion, not his. The baptism was a nice ceremony and he was there to politely observe. She, on the other hand, was excited for this wonderful, fulfilling, important, and spiritual experience her daughter was sure to remember all her life. My friend was, and still is, the spiritual leader in her home.

When her daughter came out of the water, I turned, looked at my friend, and felt a sudden wave of sadness for her. Here was a woman who was completely and actively involved in her daughter’s spiritual journey, yet she couldn’t participate in the most basic religious ceremony. Surely this wasn’t right. Why couldn’t she participate in some way?

She did give a talk about baptism and the Holy Ghost. Her husband also stood up and said a few, nice words. My friend was on the same level as her non-member husband. She was there to watch and and say nice thing, nothing more.

I felt that same divide during my own daughter’s baptism. 

I had stopped attending a few months prior. I was “inactive” but no one had noticed yet. Even though I could’ve slid through my daughter’s baptism with only smiles and nods, I was desperate to be a part of it. 

I didn’t believe and I hadn’t believed in years. I was actually just coming off a very long and angry phase of my faith transition. I was more exhausted than anything else, but I was holding myself together for the sake of my child. I wanted to be a presence at her baptism because I wanted her to know and feel my love. She wouldn’t understand the turmoil I was feeling had nothing to do with her. I would not have her feel bad or guilt over a path I had set her on before she could talk.

I demanded to give the talk on the Holy Ghost because it was the only option I could take. I may not believe the church is true, but I’m still an active participant in shaping her spiritual journey. The words I said in that talk were the exact words I wanted her to hear. I went a bit rogue and focused on things like inner voice and authenticity, but not so much that anyone (coughbishopcough) would have to correct me when I was done. Most people, especially other women, expressed appreciation for my words. It rang a bell within them and I hope that same bell rang within my daughter. 

Now I wonder, had I the opportunity to stand as witness to my daughter’s baptism, would I have taken it? In a way there was something nice about standing off to the side, with a towel in my arms, as I waited for her to come back up the stairs. I was able to shed a few tears in private from my little corner of the dressing room. I wouldn’t have been able to do that had I been standing and watching next to the font. 

Still, I would’ve been a part of this special ceremony—even if it wasn’t exactly special to me. My role in leading and guiding my daughter’s spirituality is equal to my husband’s. Being out of the church and a woman doesn’t suddenly make me less relevant. I would’ve loved to support her in an official capacity.

So yes, I am very happy the church has changed it’s policy—especially because mothers are just as actively involved in their children’s spiritual lives as priesthood holding fathers. Spirituality doesn’t come from special powers that only men hold, it comes from lessons taught day to day. Giving women an official role eases some of the hurt caused by the inequality. It doesn’t solve the issue, but it helps.

I do have some issues, though. For one thing I’m a bit miffed that I, as a grown ass adult woman, am put on the same level as a child. A twelve year old boy with the priesthood is still above me. There is also something distinctly uncomfortable about calling on an eight year old to stand as a witness to anything. Children are malleable and eager to please. When interviewed, the interviewer is especially careful with the type and the way questions are asked. Judges, even, need to clarify that a child knows the difference between a lie and a truth before they can bare witness. What purpose or need is there for a child to stand in such an official capacity at church? And what does this say about how the church views women as well?

Then, there are the statements by Dallin H. Oaks that came after Russell M. Nelson’s announcement. This one sums it up best: 

“Finally, the long-standing doctrinal statements reaffirmed in the Family Proclamation 23 years ago will not change. They may be clarified as directed by inspiration.”

So, even though the church has granted women a somewhat more “equal” role, gender is binary and gender roles are still alive and well within Christ’s church. Men preside while women nurture and home-make. The patriarchy is still in charge and the status quo hasn’t changed. 

The church, in my opinion, still has a long way to go.